No White Flag
by shine7
Summary: After stabbing Vaughn, Sydney sits and ponders the last two years and her future. (Eventual SydSark)
1. White Flag

Title: No White Flag

Disclaimer: As if I was cool enough to have thought up "Alias!" I wish!

Rating: PG-13 

Pairing: Sydney/Sark (later on)

Summary: Sydney sits, lost in thought after the latest mission (3.04) with Vaughn's stabbing.

Author's note: I'm not usually a fan of song fics, but Dido's "White Flag" was on repeat in my stereo and it made me think of Sydney, who never gives up. The lyrics are paraphrased within this chapter. This is my first "Alias" fic.

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I will go down with this ship, she thought. She wouldn't put her hands up and surrender.

Not Sydney Bristow.

No, she knew there would be no white flag above her door. Because she was in love, and she always would be. At least, she thought she always would be, two years ago. But since her return, everything was being called into question.

Perhaps she'd been listening to too much Dido. Or perhaps Vaughn had truly ripped her apart. She was hollow. Earlier that night, she had kissed a man who knew her as Julia. She didn't even know herself as Julia. Yet she had given in, wanting the intel. She never would have crossed the physical boundary before, even for an important mission. She would die for the CIA, but she wouldn't prostitute herself for the organization. Or so she had thought.

But you know what? It actually felt good. In a sick way, so did stabbing Vaughn. She rationalized it by saying she had stabbed the least harmful way possible and had stuck the transmitter on him so the CIA could easily find him. She saved him from certain death at the hands of Simon's group. Sure, it wouldn't be as easy for the CIA to track the stolen serum now, but at least Lauren would have her precious Vaughn safe at home after a short hospital stay.

It was over with Vaughn. On the airplane, on the way to the mission, they had had a Moment. Like the one a week earlier when he caught a glimpse of her in her ball gown before they destroyed Medusa. But that's all they were – fleeting moments, because after a few seconds, all either could think about was Her.

Lauren. 

In her heart of hearts, Sydney knew she had left too much mess and destruction to just come back again and pretend like nothing had ever happened, like two years hadn't passed. For God's sake, if Sloane could be the chair of a world relief organization, certainly anything was possible. 

No, she'd hold her tongue and let Vaughn think she'd moved on. To what, she didn't know. Will was in witness protection. She had yet to see him. Surprisingly, Weiss was quickly becoming a quasi-replacement for that old friendship – in her mind, she found herself secretly calling Eric "nouveau-Will." But, like Will, they were just friends. And without the lingering physical attracting her and Will had always shared.

Now, she was sure she had slept with people during the past two years. Simon had pretty much confirmed her suspicions. She didn't know how many. She didn't want to know. If she could slit Lazarey's throat in cold blood, she could have done anything. Anything. The thought frightened her. 

She thought of the videotape of Lazarey, for the millionth time in the last few weeks. It all kept coming back to that man. She barely knew anything about him, save the fact that he was Sark's father. And that was more than Sark himself had known until he lost his $800 million inheritance.

Somehow, her fate seemed to be intertwined with Sark's. Earlier that night, she had learned that he was Simon's contact from the Covenant. It didn't surprise her. After all, Sark's loyalties were indeed flexible. Quite flexible.

She didn't know for sure that he had spotted her. He would have only seen her profile for a second at most, and then the long, curly hair extensions she wore as "Julia." But somehow, she knew he had seen her. And had kept quiet. It all must be part of a master plan. Clearly, he had let her go because he would need her later on.

For what, she didn't know. But as she looked up from the couch where she had been resting, lost in thought, and saw him enter the room, she knew she would soon find out.

"Hello, Sydney."


	2. Shattered

**Title:** No White Flag

**Disclaimer:** As if I was cool enough to have thought up "Alias!" I wish!

**Rating:** PG-13 

**Pairing:** Sydney/Sark 

**Author's Note:**  This chapter, "Shattered," borrows from the Cranberries song on the Bury the Hatchet CD. Like I said in the first chapter, I'm not generally a songfic fan, but I think my experiment of incorporating lyrics into a chapter is working so far, so I'll keep it going for now. At least songs can be inspiring on where to move plot-wise.

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Sydney was surprised, yet not surprised that Sark had found her. He seemed to be better at finding her than the CIA was at keeping him in custody. Either way, Sydney wasn't fond of him and his lies, even if she did occasionally envy his skills. And his being here now risked blowing her cover with Simon, putting her in mortal danger (again).

After a pause where both thought about their precarious situation, Sark smiled. Well, actually it was closer to a self-satisfied smirk.

Damn, she thought. That always does shatter me when he does that. She quickly stopped herself, wondering what she was thinking. Maybe she had somehow missed their spats. She looked at him again.

Maybe not.

"It seems that now you are getting some idea of where you've been for the last two years," he said, walking over to the couch. 

He sat down on one side, just slightly too close for comfort to Sydney. It was uncanny how he knew the exact millimeter that would overstep the boundary into her personal space to make her uncomfortable, she thought. Typical of him too.

"What's it to you?" she snarled. 

Sydney wasn't in the mood for his longwinded games. Especially when Simon could walk in soon and Sark could blow her cover. Of course, she thought, maybe she didn't even care anymore. Everything that had once seemed so important to her now seemed so trivial after her relationship with Vaughn had ended. There wasn't much left to live for anyway, so why put in so much effort? She was beginning to tire of all the games. And she had a feeling that Sark wasn't going to make things better.

"Personally, I have no interest in your whereabouts," he said, with his usual condescension. "Sorry to disappoint you, but your illicit affair with that commoner Simon doesn't bother me in the slightest. Professionally, however, it seems our paths have crossed once again."

"So it seems," she said.

"Anyway, enough time for pleasantries," he said. 

She wondered where the pleasantries had gone. She certainly hadn't seen any.

After a slight pause, Sark continued.

"As you might have guessed, I have found a new employer," he said. "Funny, how my services always seem to be indispensable." Again with the smirk.

She glared.

"Anyhow, the Covenant has placed me in charge of handling Simon's little operation, the very one you seem to be so involved with, 'Julia.' Personally and professionally, I might add."

The cocky bastard, always rubbing it in, she thought.

"Don't worry. I won't be standing in your way. My employer wishes for the operation to succeed, and you have clearly demonstrated your skills," he said. "Quite handy with a knife, I hear."

Another glare. So he knew about Vaughn too.

"I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of 'Julia's' wrath myself. But she has been most helpful in acquiring the serum the Covenant needs to develop its airborne Ebola strain."

Sydney felt guilty. Since she had placed the tracking beacon on Vaughn, now the entire world was at risk of dying from a disease with a 90 percent mortality rate. Great, she thought. Perhaps Vaughn hadn't been worth the trouble.

Sark leaned back into the couch, finding his position rather comfortable. Yes, he thought, he always did like having the upper hand. Especially when it came to Agent Bristow.

"Why are you even here telling me this, Sark? I already knew that, so I'm sure it isn't worthwhile to waste your time with me," she said.

"Ah, yes," he said. "Well, of course, there is a purpose to my little visit. You see, my employer doesn't quite trust Simon, And, if he double-crosses the organization, I could be in a bit of trouble, as his handler. It seems my employer doesn't quite trust me either."

Well that's a shock, she thought, thinking of just how many past employers Sark must have had.

"So I need you to do a little intelligence-gathering for me on the side," he said. "In exchange, I'll let you live. We'll decide just how comfortably later on."

Sydney looked at his pocket, glimpsing his Beretta. She was unarmed. She didn't think Sark would actually kill her – both had had the opportunity before, but neither had taken it. But if the Covenant had made her capable of killing Lazarey and sleeping with Simon, she didn't doubt the organization's ability to push Sark over the edge. Plus, the idea of pissing off the NSC hardly upset her.

"Fine," she said. "What do I need to do?"

Sark leaned forward.

"Stay close to Simon. Very close."

He softly combed his finger down her long curls, letting a single strand rest on her cheek.

She shuddered, repulsed, but comforted in knowing the encounter had already climaxed.

"I'll be in touch," he said, his blue eyes focused laser-like on her own, before walking away. 

He turned out the light, leaving her behind in the dark with her thoughts.


	3. Waltz 2 XO

**Title:** No White Flag

**Disclaimer:** As if I was cool enough to have thought up "Alias!" I wish!

**Rating:** PG-13 

**Pairing:** Sydney/Sark 

**Author's Note:**  This chapter, "Waltz #2 (XO)" is based on the Elliott Smith song. He committed suicide the other day, which was very disturbing to me, as I had been a big fan. He is best known for his Academy Award-nominated song, "Misery," from the "Good Will Hunting" soundtrack.

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**The next morning:**

Sydney woke up disoriented, in an unfamiliar room. It was hardly the first time. She looked around and it came back to her. She was at Simon's hideout. More surprisingly, she looked to her left. There was Simon, still asleep.

She didn't remember much about the previous evening after Sark had left. Simon had soon entered, and there had been some drinks. The rest was a blur, and her current, pounding headache wasn't making things any better. There must have been a lot of drinks. In a way, she was glad her memories were so remote. Were they even her memories? Or had she reverted to Julia?

Thinking too much isn't good, she thought. Especially before coffee and Advil.

She rose from the bed. Simon turned over, but still seemed to be asleep. She was in his room. So she tiptoed out the door and went to her room, down the hall, entering the attached bathroom to take a shower.

The one thing she did remember from the previous evening was her encounter with Sark. Funny, how he always managed to get under her skin, she thought. She couldn't think of anyone else with the same capabilities, save Sloane.

Sydney didn't realize that Simon had woken up and heard the water running down the hall. He was watching her shower, behind the fogged glass.

My God, he thought. Julia is so heartbreakingly beautiful. But she must have no emotions at all. She always seems to be staring into space as if she were a dead paper doll. He was afraid he'd never really gotten to know her, even if he was somehow falling in love with her.

Sydney never heard Simon, even when he left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

**Later that day:**

"Now that we've got the serum, the Covenant has given us a new assignment," Simon told the group. "I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Sark, who has the details," he said, gesturing to the door where Sark entered, with his signature all-black clothing and dark sunglasses.

He removed the sunglasses. Sydney tried to hide her shock. She thought Sark was going to stay away while she gathered intelligence on Simon's group. Apparently, he was more involved than she thought.

"Hello. As Simon has told you, I am your contact at the Covenant," Sark told the group. "After your last two successful operations, we have decided that your cell is quite useful. Therefore, my superiors have assigned you another task. You are to infiltrate an international relief organization owned by Arvin Sloane, a former member of the Alliance, and retrieve his private files on the Covenant. We believe he has been sharing information with the CIA and the NSC about our organization and wish to find out what exactly he's been telling them."

Sloane, Sydney thought. It's always about Sloane. She still didn't trust him. He must have some ulterior motives for running the relief organization. She would be happy to comply with the task assigned by Sark, if only to find his even more private files, which she suspected contained evidence of his larger plot.

"I have already given more specific instructions to Simon," Sark said. "However, my employer has asked me to meet with each of you individually."

Sydney thought that was rather abnormal, and looked straight at Sark.

"Ladies first," he said, motioning for him to follow him.

She looked at Simon for approval, which she got with the nod of his head, and followed Sark out into the hallway.

If this meeting was anything like last night's, she thought, this was going to be interesting.


	4. Mystery Girl

**Title:** No White Flag

**Disclaimer:** As if I was cool enough to have thought up "Alias!" I wish!

**Rating:** PG-13 

**Pairing:** Sydney/Sark 

**Author's Note:**  This chapter, "Mystery Girl" is based on the song from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, which totally rocks. (It's off their first EP, not the newer CD, "Fever to Tell"). I know you guys would probably like longer chapters, but unfortunately I don't tend to have the time/plot design to write more than 600-700 words or so at a time. Sorry!

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Once in the hallway, Sydney paused and looked at Sark. Really looked at him, straight in the eye.

He did the same.

She folded first.

"What do you want with me? I already told you last night that I'd stay close to Simon."

"I know," he said, with a smirk beginning to grow. "In fact, my surveillance shows you've been doing quite the job. It seems Julia's managed to 'tame the tiger.'"

She was sick. He knew about last night. She didn't even know about last night, not really, not through the alcoholic daze, but he knew. So typical. He probably got off on watching her. 

That thought made her even sicker.

"Look, I don't want to talk about that," she pleaded. 

The conversation paused again. Another exchange of glances.

"Why are you even talking to each of us alone? It really isn't your style," she said.

"Neither is that outfit, mystery girl," he said, looking her up and down, checking out the tight leather ensemble. "Straight out of cell block three, I might add. Although I can't say my clothes were quite as form fitting when I was behind the glass …"

This time, she was the one who glared.

"Anyhow, Simon suspects that one of his three operatives is an informer," he continued. "Shocking, really. And you're his prime suspect, after your bloody little encounter with Agent Vaughn. Therefore, he's asked me to interview each one of you with and to give threats of intimidation."

"So this conversation is really just a time-filler, until you intimidate the other men, right?"

"Not quite. I did make a promise to him. So you better leave here looking a bit 'roughed up.' I have a reputation to maintain."

Sydney prepared for his blows. After all, each previous fight between her and Sark had practically been the struggle of the century.

Sark walked even closer, rolling up his sleeves. She backed up and was practically against the wall.

She steeled herself, wondering if this was how Vaughn felt before she stabbed him – helpless and vulnerable, knowing that accepting mild pain was worse than the even greater pain that would come with resistance.

But the blows never came.

Instead, Sark grabbed her back with one hand and put another hand around her neck. She was sure he was going to choke her.

But he just moved her curls again, as he had the previous night. And leaned in toward her ear.

"There are many ways to rough a person up," he whispered, deep with intonation.

And at that moment, Sydney found herself strangely attracted to Sark. 

Their eyes met again. Barriers suddenly vanished, faster than they had been put up.

They went for it, kissing, groping, breathing madly, almost primally.

And then they heard footsteps. 

Simon was coming around the corner.

Sydney was frozen in shock, but Sark came through as usual.

He kneed her in the stomach, flooring her in pain. Their physical encounter had removed her prior readiness, and the blow hurt. Badly. But somehow, it didn't linger as much as the kisses had. She could still feel Sark's hands, remembered how he had stroked her roughly, but just right, only seconds before.

"Ah, Julia, I see you and Mr. Sark must have had a nice little chat," Simon said, holding out his hand and helping Sydney rise. Her face was red and her hair was in disarray. Sure symptoms of a good rough-up, she thought.

"Shall we?" Simon asked, pointing her in the direction that would lead them back to his room.

"Of course, dear" she replied, walking with Simon, but first taking a moment to look over her shoulder at Sark.

He blew her a kiss, suggestively, before turning around and walking away, back to find the other partners to 'rough up,' in the more usual fashion.

Somehow, she was beginning to like the cold-hearted bastard. 


End file.
